Licensing Note: The story line and characters are inspired from Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. All original content and plot for A Depravity That Can Bear no Comparison is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International license by Morgan A. Wyndham. Cross-published on Archive of Our Own by Morgan AW.

Timeline: Sense and Sensibility was published in 1811, Pride and Prejudice in 1813. This story takes place during Elizabeth's second London season following her marriage, placing Georgiana Darcy at 18 and Margaret Dashwood at about 17 years old.

Elizabeth Darcy sighed from the sidelines of the ball where she was once again forced to sit out of the dance. At this stage, however, nobody could accuse her of being slighted by men since she was sitting out on account of her delicate condition. Lady Catherine, no doubt, would scold her for attending the season at such an interesting time, but Georgiana had been so frightened of facing her second season without Elizabeth that she had seen no other option. There would be time enough for her confinement come June. Beside her, Jane looked wistfully at the dancers. Young Master Bingley was nearly two months old, but Jane had suffered a lingering ailment following his birth and had not yet fully recovered her strength. Elizabeth had finally cajoled her into attending Lady Matlock's ball that evening by reminding her that they would be old married ladies together from the sidelines.

"I am glad we were able to convince Charles and Darcy to dance at last, just because we are unable to enjoy the dancing does not mean that they must be denied the pleasure," Jane said placidly.

Elizabeth laughed, "I'm not certain my husband would consider it a pleasure, but at least he's dancing with Georgiana." Their husbands had thus far spent most of the evening at their sides and Elizabeth was unsure that she'd be able to convince Darcy to dance with anyone other than their sisters – who were in short supply and limited only to Georgiana, Kitty, and Jane that evening.

Jane sighed whistfully again as she scanned the line of dancers. Jane loved to dance and while she would never say so aloud, this forced inaction was trying. "How pretty Miss. Dashwood looks this evening," Jane idly commented as her gaze settled on the lively young lady dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"Yes, I believe my cousin would wholeheartedly agree with you!" Lizzy replied lightheartedly.

"Oh! They would make a marvelous match, she once spent nearly half an hour explaining some military strategy or another to me at a garden party."

Lizzy looked again at the pair, who were deep in conversation as they danced. "True, if I've ever met a young lady who could honestly be happy following her husband's regiment – for the proper reasons – it's Margaret Dashwood. She's from a good family too, and her brother's rich as Croesus so she'd probably meet the requirements of the younger son of an earl."

"Lizzy!" Jane gasped with a shocked giggle, "you're beginning to sound like Mama!"

"Heaven forbid!" Lizzy replied in mock indignation. "I believe you began with the matchmaking, I am merely being practical. The Colonel reliably informed me himself once that he could not afford to marry without some attention to money."

"Well, for fear of further comparison to our mother, I shall say no more on the subject," Jane replied serenely, though the glint in her eye revealed her to be highly diverted.

As the youngest daughter, Margaret Dashwood often loathed comparisons to her elder sisters. She liked to think that she had personality enough to be regarded in her own right, not merely as a watered down version of Marianne or a less-reserved Elinor. But as she went down the line with Colonel Fitzwilliam she couldn't help but analyze her feelings from her sister's points of view.

She had enough of Marianne's sensibility to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach when he lightly took her hand. He was a nearly perfect specimen for her: He was handsome and dashing and terribly diverting. He had been tested in the field of battle but his stories were practical – none of these glorified accounts of heroism many young men spread around ballrooms. Most importantly, he seemed to actually value her opinions, to listen to her when she talked. Outside of her father, Edward, and Christopher, she had met few men who truly listened to her when she talked.

On the other hand, she had enough of Eleanor's sense to realize that a real courtship with the son of an earl was unlikely. If she were to judge by the cut of his clothing and his shining boots – in this year's style – he lived far outside of his pay from the crown. No, he was still supplemented by his father. Such support would likely disappear if he married and she had not the fortune to make up the deficit. Granted, after his cousin's surprising choice in wife, she doubted his family would react quite as dramatically as Mrs. Ferrars had when Edward affianced himself to a penniless girl, but that could still be a far cry from acceptance.

They were dancing in a set with his cousins. She and Georgiana Darcy had become fast friends on their first meeting when Margaret extracted Miss Darcy from an uncomfortable situation with an overzealous and inebriated gentleman. Although Georgiana was over a year her senior and far her superior in accomplishments, status, and fortune, it was Margaret who took Georgiana under her wing. The poor dear was painfully shy and nearly mute in company when her brother or sister-in-law were not near, so Margaret did her best to put her at her ease. As the set ended Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed and winked at her then offered her his hand.

"I feel so dreadfully nervous every time I dance," Georgiana said quietly as the gentlemen escorted them off of the dance floor."

Margaret inwardly rolled her eyes at her friend, "but what harm could befall you dancing with your brother?"

"I could misstep, or worse, trip and fall," Georgiana said in her quiet voice, "I just feel so very on display."

Margaret did laugh a bit at that, "You and a dozen other women at least, not to mention the men."

"I don't understand how you can be so comfortable with all of this," Georgiana repeated her usual refrain.

"It's simple, I know I'm not important enough for people to take note of, so there's no need to worry," Margaret said with a shrug as they approached Mrs. Darcy and her sister.

"I take note of you Miss. Dashwood," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a wink and that engaging smile. Margaret had to remind herself that he probably says such things to every lady he dances with. Flirtation is just in his nature.

"Of course you do Colonel," Mrs. Darcy said with a saucy smile, "However, you must not say such things, Miss. Dashwood, everyone is important to someone." As if to prove her point, by the time she concluded speaking her husband had made his way to her side and was discretely rubbing small circles on her back. "At any rate, if Mrs. Fanny Dashwood is to be believed, there is no family of greater importance in England than your own," she added with a sardonic smile.

Margaret was aware of the mutual animosity between Mrs. Darcy and Fanny – who had first learned of the Darcy marriage from her friend Caroline Bingley and was sympathetically outraged about such an unequal marriage. "Well, if Fanny had her way, my branch of the Dashwood tree would never have sprouted. She thinks we only exist to rob her son of his rightful inheritance." Margaret said it lightly, but could not entirely keep the bitter note from her voice.

"But surely your brother sees caring for his sisters as his duty. I am certain he would never say such a thing," Mr. Darcy interjected.

Margaret laughed bitterly, "My brother on his own likely would have. In fact he promised my father on his death bed that he would look after us. The estate was entailed to John, you see and as father died rather unexpectedly he was unable to leave much to my mother and sisters. However, in the four years since my father's death, the only financial assistance he's given us was in moving us out of his home and the occasional gift of fish and game. I am quite sure it was Fanny's doing, she established herself as the mistress of Norland the very day my father was laid to rest." As the awkward silence that followed stretched on and the shocked faces of her audience stared mutely back at her Margaret realized that she'd said far to much for a ballroom.

Elizabeth inwardly seethed at the story. The story so closely followed her own mother's worst fears in life enacted: a widowed mother and her daughters kicked out of her home with little to survive on. Mama's fears had usually pinned on the idea that if she'd only had a son the entail would not matter, but it had never even occurred to Elizabeth that a brother might be so unfeeling towards his sisters – half sisters or no!

Her husband's hand had stopped tracing circles on her back and she could feel his tension. In another sense the story also reflected one she had heard about him: a father's dying wish ignored, a life – or lives – ruined by broken promises. That tale had likewise been told her by the injured party who had every appearance of truth. She could barely conceive of this straightforward girl maliciously inventing such a story against her own brother but she had learned her lesson well. She would seek corroboration, she would not allow her prejudices to lead her astray once more. Sure, Fanny Dashwood was a selfish, grasping, social climber who had disparaged Elizabeth's own unequal marriage, but Elizabeth would still give the cat a chance to explain herself before she took action.

Notes: I've had the start of this story on my computer for over a year. Listening to the audiobook of S&S last night made me want to revisit it. We'll see where it goes.